


Day 25: Missing Home — Fussing

by 221b_hound



Series: Techienician: Botanical Love [26]
Category: Dredd (2012), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 30 Days of Techienician, Homesickness, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Techienician
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 03:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8147710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221b_hound/pseuds/221b_hound
Summary: Matt gets a message from home: his mother has sent greetings and gifts.





	

Matt plays the message three times before Techie gets back to their room. He’s sitting in the semi-dark, cross-legged on the bed, elbow on his thigh, chin in his hand, looking at the light projection of his mother as she chatters, when Techie comes in.

_“…such a nice looking boy, too, I’m so pleased for you, Matthew. Do tell him to call me Mom, if he wants to. It’ll be nice to have another son. Perhaps he’ll let me fuss over him, since you never do...”_

“You said she fusses over you all the time,” says Techie, sitting down next to Matt on the bed and leaning on his arm. He gazes at the blonde woman in the projection. Lean. Tall. A sweet face behind those glasses she wears. She’s thinner than Matt, not so solid, but she has his slow grace and a no-nonsense air kindness about her.

Matt grins crookedly. “She does. And she won’t let me fuss over her. Not really.”

For years, Matt has been sending a quarter of his pay packet home to Corellia for his mother. It covers most of her rent, which is ridiculously expensive, but it’s in a secure tower block, not like the tiny place where he grew up.

That scabby little flat was nothing much, but it was home until he graduated and joined the Finalizer’s civilian technical crew. She worked hard, his mom, to get him through all his schooling. She relied sometimes on men who weren’t always good to her, so she could see him go further than she had.

And still she fusses him, and won’t let him fuss back. Except for the rent. Miralu Hugon is proud but not stupid, and she doesn’t rely on unreliable men any more. She will not be in a position where another of them will ever raise a hand to her.

Some of those unreliable men were awful bullies when drunk, and Matt can’t abide a bully. It wasn’t all bad. His mom has a penchant for rogues, it’s true, but not all rogues are mean. The first rogue, his father – a smuggler, she always said – was charming and kind, but not a bully; and not a stayer.

_“…I hope the parcel arrived safely, and that they fit…”_

Matt picks up a box from the pillow and pushes it into Techie’s hands. “The fussing begins,” he says fondly, “She sent this for you. Made it herself. She’s good with her hands. Like you.”

Carefully, Techie opens the box. In it is a folded garment. He lifts it, shakes out the folds, and regards it in wonder.

“I’ve got one too, but green.”

The box for Techie contains a deep blue shirt – duranex blended with silkenfrond: colourful, durable, soft – into which Miralu has embroidered a green vines with Corellian jebwa flowers, all red and yellow, coming off it. Techie presses the shirt to his cheek. It even _smells_ good.

Techie remembers his mother and father as warm presences. He understands they tried to keep him. He understands they didn’t mean to sell him to Ma-Ma. He knows they loved him, because he remembers the love even if he doesn’t remember quite what they look like, except for faces drawn in grief and protest and horror as he was taken away by the Clan.

_“…seems his colour from the image you sent. You look beautiful together, did I say? Like two little jebwa flowers, so I couldn’t resist putting them on his shirt. Tell me his favourite colour next time and I’ll make him a cloak. Does he need a cloak? Do you? If you’re there, Techie, hello! I’m Miralu! Call me Lu. Or Mom, if you want. I’m so looking forward to meeting you!...”_

Matt’s arm goes around Techie’s shoulders and he’s pulled close to Matt’s chest.

“I should have waited till you got here,” says Matt, “But I wanted to hear her voice. I miss her.”

Techie feels like he misses Miralu Hugon too, even though he’s never met her. But she feels like the memory of his mother and father, who are long dead. Lifespans are short on the Smugglers Moon if you’re not useful to someone.

Techie inhales the scent of his new shirt – his first gift from someone who isn’t Matt – and tucks it under his chin where the softness feels perfect as he leans against Matt's broad chest.

“I want to meet her.”

_“… Matthew is so happy in all his letters,” Miralu’s projection continues, “And he looks so well, I know you’re taking good care of my boy…”_

Matt nuzzles into the top of Techie’s hair and kisses him there. “You do take good care of me, Mus.” He hugs Techie closer. “Next leave we have, we’ll visit her. She’s going to fuss you to madness, though. And me.”

“Can we let her?”

Matt tilts Techie’s face up to soft-kiss his darling boy. “Of course we can,” he murmurs against Techie’s lips.


End file.
